Miles to Go, Wright
by Blackwidina
Summary: Finally!  Phoenix has re-taken the bar, he's feeling great, on top of the world-oh, no!  It's Edgeworth!  Will they fight?  Have an angstfest?  Get back together?  Of course not!  This is a JustWright fic!  T for some language.


A/N: Finally! The return of Edgeworth! God, I love this man to pieces. And I must admit, Phoenix/Miles is my OTP in this series, though Hobo/Apollo is obviously winning me the hell over. With gusto. In fact, they may be tied. I blame Croik. The fic "Hot Pockets," which I try to read at least once a week, was what made me fall in love with these two in the first place. All of this. Croik's fault. Feel free to go and give your thanks to this fantastic author.

Also, I don't own Ace Attorney, Perry Mason, IHOP (mentioned in spirit, if not by name), or . . . well, anything you could sue me for. It's also about 5 AM and I haven't slept, so let me know if you find any horrible grammatical errors or something.

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><p><strong>Miles to Go, Wright<strong>

Phoenix left the bar exam room feeling better than he had in _years_. Hell, he hadn't even felt this good the _first_ time he'd taken the bar. Fighting the urge to start whistling, he strolled leisurely towards Courtroom Five.

He was sure he passed. There was no way he could fail, after all the study help Apollo and Trucy had given him. They'd figured out that he was an extremely visual learner—after all, he'd started his college career as an art major. Apollo'd had the idea of having Phoenix draw things from the court records—the decisive piece of evidence, a sketch of the twist of events during the trial, the crime scenes, etc. It helped cement the images in his mind.

Even more fun was what Trucy'd come up with: she'd roped Apollo into acting out famous court cases (which, hilariously, Apollo had really gotten into, especially whenever they got to re-enact one of Phoenix's own.) Trucy had had a blast pretending to kill Polly, then come up with increasingly dramatic testimony while Apollo played prosecutor, complete with finger-wagging, mock-whipping, empty coffee mugs, guitar riffs, and a passable imitation of Payne's agonized wail.

And what couldn't be acted out, Apollo was more than willing to study with him, complete with cuddling on the couch, and kisses as rewards for the right answers, or even just the Wright ones . . .

"Wright."

Phoenix was jolted from his warm reminiscence by an unexpected, yet familiar voice. One that he didn't particularly want to hear.

Sure enough, Miles Edgeworth stood in front of him, as impeccable as always.

Funny, it had never crossed his mind that there would be a day that he _wouldn't_ be glad to see Miles.

Seemingly unperturbed by Phoenix's blank stare, Miles stepped forward, a slight smirk on his face. "Nice to see you, Phoenix."

"I, uh, thought you were in Europe. Or somewhere." _Somewhere not here. Anywhere not here._

Miles smirked and waggled a finger in admonishment. "Now, Wright, I _did_ tell you that I'd see you in court, didn't I? I received word that you were retaking the bar, and wanted to make sure I was here to lend my support."

Phoenix kept his face very carefully expressionless. Of course. Once he'd gotten in contact with his friends, someone was _bound_ to tell Miles the news. "Oh. Well, the results won't be in for at least a month. I'm not a lawyer, yet."

"Wright, that's really immaterial, isn't it?" Oh god, there was that knowing smirk on his face.

He tried to reign in his rising irritation. "Funny, you gave me the very emphatic impression that it wasn't." _Oops. That came out a little harsher than I intended._

Phoenix could almost _see_ Edgeworth's walls slide up into place, "I . . . see. Phoenix, I know we parted on less than good terms-"

"No shit."

"Eloquent as ever, I see." The man was getting mad, now, but that was fine.

Phoenix wished he had his hobo gear. He always felt more comfortable when he knew his tension wasn't as visible. Still, it wouldn't do any good to act cowed in front of _this_ man, so he straightened his shoulders and met Edgeworth's gaze. "Miles, did you really think that nothing would change? Did you even think that leaving would make _me_ change?"

"I concede that perhaps-"

"Goddammit, speak English, not legalese. You've been gone for _seven years_, Miles. Almost eight. Not to mention that you left because apparently I'm not worth your time without an attorney's badge. And you just think you can walk up to me and pretend that everything's just like it used to be?"

"That's odd, considering that between the ages of nine and twenty-four, you pursued me, despite a complete lack of communication on my end," Miles sneered.

Ouch. Ouchouchouch. He and Miles had had this argument before, when they'd discovered that von Karma had hidden every one Phoenix's letters for all those years. Phoenix had just been relieved that, in retrospect, Miles hadn't known, which meant that he'd never intentionally blown his friend off. Miles had questioned the sanity of a man that would keep up such a seemingly futile effort.

But hey, it wasn't the first time that someone had called him crazy.

Taking a deep breath and resisting the urge to put his hands into non-existent pockets, Phoenix held his head high and said quietly, "Things _have_ changed, Miles. If you came back to congratulate me, thank you. I'll always appreciate what you've done for me. If you came back because you want to face me in court again, fine. I was fairly sure we were over this phase, but it really doesn't matter, since all I'm in it for is to help innocent people. Which, theoretically, the prosecution should be too, but we both know how _that_ works."

He stepped closer, looking into his ex-lover's eyes, "But if you came back for _me_, it's too late. Maybe, with some time, starting back over, we could be friends. I've been working hard lately, trying to make up for the last few years, and I'm willing to do the same with you. But that's as far as it goes. If you can't understand or accept that, you might as well get back on the plane to wherever the hell you've been hiding."

Phoenix was watching Miles the whole time, making note of the flickering emotions evident in every facial movement, every change of posture. He was so adept at reading people by now that he could almost read the hope in Edgeworth's eyes, and the thoughts of '_I may still have a chance; if we become __friends again, it won't be long before we're lovers again as well. . .'_

The courtroom doors opened behind him, and Nick took a step back from Edgeworth as people poured out, talking excitedly. From what he could hear, it had been a hell of a turnabout, with someone unexpected being pegged as the murderer, while the defendant was found innocent of all charges. He couldn't help but smile, thinking that soon, he'd be back in court, doing the same thing, fighting for Justice . . .

And speaking of Justice . . .

"Daddy!" A blue silk hat was quite visible in the masses as it made it's way toward him. Phoenix could sense Miles stiffen next to him as Trucy freed herself from the crowd. She all but skidded to a stop when she reached him, eyes bright. "Daddy, we won!"

"Of course you did," he smiled, then nodded towards Miles, "You remember Mr. Edgeworth, right, Trucy?"

Blue eyes went wide as she took in the man. Even though Miles had left quite soon after That Case, but Phoenix knew that the magenta suit would have left an impression on her—as did the effects of his leaving Phoenix alone. "Y-yes. I remember." She glanced back at him, but Phoenix just smiled, letting her know he was okay.

And two seconds later, he really was.

The crowd thinned a little, revealing the person Phoenix had headed this way to see. Apollo was chatting with Klavier as they slowly headed out of the courtroom. Klavier was trying to flirt, Phoenix could tell by the way he was leaning in to the shorter man, but the other was either oblivious or just ignoring him.

Klavier spotted the threesome first, and, taking Apollo's elbow, steered the both of them towards the them. With a flick of his eyes to Edgeworth, Klavier bowed slightly to Phoenix. "Ah, Herr Wright, how nice to see you. I must again complain about your theft of Herr Forehead. He was quite tempting to begin with, but now that he has the air of the unattainable, it is much worse, ja?"

Apollo, naturally, turned as red as his suit, and started spluttering something incoherent, but Phoenix took the glance, and the line, as the clues that they were: Miles had already been told about Apollo. And judging by his attitude before, he hadn't believed it.

"So sorry, Klavier," he replied cheerfully. "I promise, if I ever feel like sharing, you'll be first on the list."

The sputtering started getting louder.

The prosecutor laughed, then inquired about the bar exam. That managed to calm Apollo down, as Trucy jumped up and down, demanding details. Phoenix had his hands full answering questions.

It took almost fifteen minutes before he realized that Miles had disappeared.

* * *

><p>A knock on the door woke Apollo and Phoenix out of a dead sleep. With a glance at the clock—three AM—Phoenix managed to settle Polly back into slumber before he shuffled to the door.<p>

It was Miles. Of course.

Feeling a headache loom threateningly, he almost slammed the door, but one look at the man's eyes told him that he was suffering in his usual stoic way. With a sigh, he told Miles to wait, then grabbed his sandals, and, as a concession to the slight chill outside, his hoodie and beanie.

It wasn't regression. It was just cold outside. Riight.

Miles blinked pretty hard when Phoenix opened the office door again and, instead of inviting him inside, walked out. "Aren't you-"

"Trucy's sleeping."

"I'm quite sure we wouldn't wake-"

"So is Apollo."

". . ."

"That's what I thought."

They ended up at an all-night diner, a hobo and a man in an impeccable, if magenta, suit. Phoenix was long past giving a shit, and talked Miles into ordering food.

"I don't think I could eat, Wright."

"Good. That means I can mooch. Get one of those big platter things with a little bit of everything."

"That's odd: I was under the impression you were my old friend, Phoenix, not his bottomless pit of an assistant, Ms. Fey."

"Times change, Miles. Feed me."

Then came the part Phoenix hated the most. Miles was the most repressed person on the planet, and getting him to open up was nigh impossible, even when they were on good terms. However, armed with years' worth of experience reading people (not to mention the magatama he had hidden in a pocket, just in case,) and his knowledge of Miles, he knew he'd get there somehow.

"All right, let's get this started. Are you mad?"

"What?"

"No? Sad?"

"Wright, I-"

"Happy? Horny?"

"Hold it!" A hand slammed down on the table, earning a few stares from across the restaurant. "Dammit, Wright, I didn't come here to play Twenty Questions!"

"Yes, but it's almost four in the morning, I'm tired, and you want to talk, which usually means a six hour process of mostly sitting in silence while you repress. Forgive me for trying to cut out some of the extraneous bullshit."

"Why, need to get back to your _lover?_" Ah, emotion. Sarcasm. They were getting somewhere.

Phoenix leaned forward, watching Miles' face. "Is it _Apollo_, specifically, that you object to, or me having a lover in general?"

A stony glare. The unsurprising appearance of multiple padlocks. Dammit.

The waitress hesitantly came around with their coffee. Phoenix thanked her, then, out of habit, sniffed at his cup before taking a drink. Not that he'd recognize poison if he smelled it, but . . . He often wondered if a third party took any notice of the chains—the waitress had walked right through them. Did she notice anything? A cold sensation? Hairs on the back of her neck standing up? The random scent of metal? They just looked too solid to his eyes.

"Hold old is he, anyway?" Miles grumped, cutting into Phoenix's musing. "He looks like he should be in high school."

He smiled, "He'd kick your ass if he heard that. Accusations of pederasty aside, he's 23 next month. And despite being a bit socially awkward, he's quite mature for his age. You have a lot in common."

Miles stared at him for a moment. "I see you've finally learned the subtle art of sarcasm, Wright."

A lift of his mug, "I learned from the best. Though I'm being entirely serious. There's a lot about him that reminds me of you. Lot of tragedy, but he didn't let it crush him. Still won't. And even when he's being snarky, it doesn't hide that heart of gold. Kind of like you."

"Hmph."

"Now, back to you being . . . whatever you are. Give me a clue."

"I . . ."

The gentle clanking of the chains was starting to annoy him. "You . . . still love me? Hate my guts? Both?"

". . ."

Phoenix sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, how about I just tell you what I think, and you can either agree or disagree. It'll be like in court. Feel free to object, even." He leaned forward again, meeting Miles' eyes. "I got disbarred. You didn't like a lot of my decisions, including—well, maybe especially—adopting Trucy. We fought, and said some things, and you left. You're terrible at opening up, or taking initiative, so even if you felt sorry—and I want to believe you did—it would still take an act of God to get you to call me up and say so. In fact, with this sort of thing, you tend to procrastinate, or talk yourself into believing it's too soon, or too late, or that I won't pick up the phone. How am I doing, so far?" He already knew he'd hit some sore spots. Locks had disintegrated at the mention of Trucy, their break-up fight, and at the end. Progress.

Miles was clutching his arm, looking off to the side. It was a pose Phoenix was pretty familiar with.

"Is that it, then? You thought you'd use my reinstatement as an excuse?"

Another lock. ". . . Well, as you put it so bluntly, it has been seven years. It was foolish of me, but I'd hoped . . ."

Phoenix shook his head sadly, "Miles, I'd like to tell you that I waited for you, but I'm not a kid anymore. I loved you, and you leaving honestly hurt, more than anything I've ever gone through—disbarment, Mia's death, Dahlia and Iris' betrayal. I was a wreck for a while."

Miles' face was pinched with pain. "I apologize."

"But I got over it."

That got his attention.

He smiled, "I had Trucy. She was my light, and she was the reason I had to keep going. I won't lie, it wasn't pretty, but between the two of us, I got back on my feet. I got a new job, and I had a mission. I spent seven years sucking up to the man I was sure framed me. I worked with the legal system, getting the Jurist system worked out and into play. I didn't 'give up,' as you put it. It just took me a little longer to get back on my feet. And maybe if you'd stuck around, you'd have been there to see it happen."

That last line must have stung, judging by the Look he received. "I . . . see."

Their food arrived then, and Phoenix happily started in on his pigs n' a blanket. "So? I've told you what I've been up to. How 'bout you?"

Miles shrugged, picking at his plate. "Just what I told you I would. I've been to several countries at this point. I . . . went back to Germany, at first. After that, it was back to studying foreign law systems. I spent almost a year in the Principality of Cohdopia, but most other places only held my attention for six months or so." He paused, gently shaking that final padlock. Phoenix tried not to actually look at it. "I never should have left."

"This might sound a little harsh, but I already know that."

"Not one to pull punches, are you?"

"I've learned it doesn't really get me anywhere. What's past is past. What we should be concerned with now is the future, right?" He reached for the syrup.

"But . . . if I had come back sooner, would it have made a difference?"

That was a question that Phoenix had tried not to think about too hard, but he felt he had to answer honestly. "Miles, if you had shown up even a year ago . . . maybe. I don't really know. I waited at first, but . . . All this kind of feels like when Iris came back into my life. Remember that? You and she are both thinking of the me of years ago. I'm not that man anymore."

"And once again, you're in a relationship that prevents you from pursuing the past, even should you wish it."

"But I _don't_ wish it, is the point." Phoenix pointed at Miles with his fork for emphasis. He had to make this _damn_ clear. "I'm very happy with Apollo. I don't want to leave him." He pushed his plate over to Edgeworth's so that he could slide some of the hash browns on to his own plate.

Miles looked off to the side, "How did . . . I mean, when . . . I heard you were accused of murder again . . . wasn't he the defense in that case?"

"I'd wager my last crate of grape juice that you already knew that. What you're really asking is whether that's when he and I got together."

". . . Is it?"

"No. It didn't happen overnight; it isn't a rebound; we haven't rushed into things. And that's assuming that anyone _can_ be considered rushing into a new relationship after a seven year wait. If anything, this relationship's probably the slowest one I've ever had. I must have some sort of fatal attraction to socially-inept, walled-off bastards who love the red end of the color spectrum."

"I think I resent that."

"I think you resemble it. Now, can you accept me and Apollo, and try to be friends? Or is it too much to keep going forward? Because we've done a lot of talking tonight, well, a lot for _you_, but I want some actual progress." He let his eyes grow cold, even as he saw Miles recoil a little at it. "I won't let anything happen to him."

"You . . . love him, don't you?" The lock was shaking again.

"I . . ." He glanced away, "I haven't used that particular terminology." To cover his discomfort, he focused his attention on swiping half of his ex's untouched waffle.

"Please. Now who has commitment issues?"

"Gee, I wonder why."

". . . I suppose I deserved that." Another rattle. Phoenix had a bad feeling about this.

"I will, once I let myself. Maybe . . . maybe I _have_ been waiting for you, after all. To finally say it's over for good. I know I said I'd wait for you forever, but . . ." Phoenix hung his head. It felt awful to know he was breaking a promise, especially to _this_ man.

The sound of metal breaking almost obscured the next words. "I . . . I never told you I loved you."

Phoenix closed his eyes against the pain in his chest. "You know, I think I've waited for that since we were kids. _Dammit_ Miles, you're a stubborn bastard."

"I can only apologize again."

Phoenix raised his head, not wanting the other to see him looking hurt. "I'm sorry, too. You're not the only one at fault. It takes two people to make any kind of relationship, and we both dropped the ball. But I'm happy with Apollo. I think you'd like him, Miles. And I'd just about pay for the chance to introduce him to Franziska. You know, before he realized I was gay, he thought I must have had a crush on her?"

Miles nearly choked on his eggs, grabbing his napkin to cover his mouth. Once he'd recovered, he actually laughed softly, "Franziska? That's certainly a match made in Hell."

"No kidding," he agreed. He decided to take the opportunity to change the subject. "How's she been? I haven't seen her in almost a year."

"She's been here that recently? Ah, that's right, she was helping you with your jurist system."

"Hey, having friends in high places doesn't hurt. And having a whip-wielding star prosecutor works even better." Phoenix thought about grabbing Miles' sausage, but was leery of seeming suggestive, so he left it alone. "Speaking of von Karma's, how's Klaudia?" God, he was desperate, if he was asking about Franziska's older sister. He hadn't even met the woman, only heard Franziska complaining about her.

The man sighed, sounding surprisingly weary. "Phoenix . . . should I have bothered coming here?"

Damn. So much for a that. He mulled over his answer for a moment. "Miles, I'm not going to lie. Seven years? Kind of a dick move." He held up a hand to fend off whatever objection was forthcoming. "That being said, you did kind of show up at the perfect time. Apollo's been really pushing me to get myself together, as a person. I've been trying to catch up with old friends, and stop pushing everyone away. I don't want you to go on bad terms, Miles. If you can accept that you and I are over, I'd like you to stay, as a friend."

Edgeworth was staring at him, "Phoenix, I . . . Maybe I shouldn't."

He gave his most winning smile, "Oh, c'mon, Edgeworth. You, me, and Larry, just like old times. Polly's even trying to convince Maya to take a week off and bring Pearls for a vacation. I haven't seen them in a couple of years—I bet they've both really grown. And you haven't had a chance to get to know Trucy, either. You'll really like her; you don't even have to provide conversation—she'll talk your ear off. Oh, and she likes animals, so you can bring Pess. You brought Pess, right?"

"Well, yes, but she's getting on in years-"

"That's all right! She'll be less inclined to chase Bullets."

"Bullets?"

"Her cat. Trucy does magic tricks with it. And trust me, that kid'll do tricks if you so much as glance at a prop. She's absolutely amazing," He couldn't help but add that, pride evident in his voice. "So, please? I'm _know_ I could get Dick and Maggey to visit, if they know you're in town! Have you met their kids? They're adorable." He went for the puppy eyes, glad that neither Trucy nor Apollo were there to see him reduced so low.

Miles looked slightly overwhelmed, "I . . . suppose I could stay for a few weeks-"

"Great!" Phoenix, genuinely happy, leaned back. He knew it wouldn't be that easy, that Miles would be horribly awkward and glare at everyone, and that Trucy would spend the whole time biting her tongue so that she didn't yell at the man for making her Daddy cry all those years ago. He even knew that Apollo would be terribly nervous, maybe even a little insecure, and Phoenix would be spending a lot of time soothing him—not that he minded, of course.

Still, Phoenix couldn't deny that Miles Edgeworth was an important person in his life, one that he'd missed terribly. Just like he missed Maya, Pearls, and Larry, Maggey and Gumshoe. Even Franziska. It had been so long since he'd been surrounded by his friends, and, dammit, Apollo was right when he'd said that Nick needed them.

In fact, when he got home, he said as much to a groggy Apollo as he climbed back into bed.

Apollo just yawned and rolled over. "Don't be stupid," he muttered, obviously still asleep, "I can' be a Wright. 'Pollo Wright sounds dumb. You c'n take my name."

In spite of himself, Phoenix laughed.

FIN

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><p>Dear Muses: Keeping me up all night to write Ace Attorney fanfiction when I know my daughter will be up bright and early to jump on my face is NOT very cool.<p>

Also, I crave IHOP. Can you tell?


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